Yes.

[ Dinner on the table, and chatting with Maelle and Emma, and maybe a glass of wine with Emma once Maelle has gone to bed, over which he could tell her the slightly bewildering story of this chance meeting. ]

Although I think they'd forgive me if I told them I'd encountered a fascinating stranger, and hadn't just fallen into a ditch somewhere.

[ Verso leans easily against the piano, and the slope of his shoulders, the shift of his weight onto one hip, the way the shadows of this empty building darken those remarkable eyes is almost as appealing a song as the music he'd played earlier. There's something about the way he moves that's almost lupine in its grace, and a little niggling voice at the back of Gustave's head murmurs: dangerous.

But how, in what way, he isn't sure. Dangerous to Gustave's self-control, at the very least, because the next thing he knows he's opening his mouth and: ]

... but if not tonight, maybe I can see you tomorrow.

[ Did he just—

It's his turn to wet his lip, face scrunching into a self-conscious grimace, and his metal left hand lifts into the air, gesturing aimlessly as he tries to marshal his thoughts, his words. They keep piling up, tripping his tongue, and it's all, well— ]

If you want, that is. I mean... if you aren't...

If it wouldn't be too... I was just thinking, you know, maybe...

[ Awful. He grimaces again, head ducking, and glances up with a chastened expression. ]

Sorry.